


Burgundy Love

by SuperRedRobin (SweetFanfics)



Series: Future AU [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-24
Updated: 2012-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/SuperRedRobin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was their favorite piece of clothing and they both loved to wear it. More importantly, they loved seeing the other person in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgundy Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vivian](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Vivian).



This is the story of a red sweater.

 

It wasn’t a particularly special sweater really.

 

Mass produced and sold in a number of shops throughout the world. Just one of a thousand stock pieces made by a well known brand name. Available in the usual standard sizes.

100% wool, machine washable, made in Mauritius.

 

(“I dunno Tim…Its not like I really _need_ a sweater.” “In that case, I’ll leave it to _you_ to figure out an appropriate reply when someone asks you in the middle of _winter_ why you’re walking around in the snow without a sweater on.” “Alright alright, I get the point!”) 

 

It was just a regular old v-neck sweater. Long sleeved just long enough to create a few folds around the wrist. A rich, deep burgundy shade which was rather easy on the eyes.

 

(“Red? Kon, you need to bring some variety in your wardrobe.” “Well this one isn’t really _red_. Its….burgundy.” “Which is a shade of red…” “Don’t be hating on red. Besides, they don’t have my size in any other color.” “Behemoth.” “D &D nerd.”)

 

The rich color had faded over the course of time, victim of a number of accidental stains (sexual and otherwise). The material around the elbows had thinned but it wasn’t really noticeable when the sleeves were rolled up.  The collar had stretched out an inch or two as well.

 

(“D-don’t pull on the mmmm collar like that Kon.” “Why not?” “You’ll stretch it out oh!” “Mmm you’re the one who didn’t want hickeys in obvious places.” “Then just take the sweater off.” “With pleasure.”)

 

Even after a few years of wear (and abuse), it still fit like a dream. On both owners.

 

It draped gracefully over the larger boy’s broad shoulders, loosely hugging his broad torso. Strong arms made to look sturdier when the material was bunched up around his elbows and those large hands were flipping through a stack of papers. Collar dipping down to reveal a tantalizing amount of golden skin.

 

(“I should really… _really_ get through these proofs.” “They’ll won’t run away or anything. They can wait until I’m done with you.” “Mmmmm planning to have your way with me?” “Only if you keep the sweater on the whole time.”)

 

The collar dipped far more dangerously on the smaller owner. Revealing inches of pale, scarred skin on tense shoulders as they hunched over a laptop. The long sleeves rolled back several times over over the comparatively smaller arms as they moved speedily over the keyboard.

 

(“Have I ever told you that you look great in that sweater?” “Hnnn many times.” “I’ll say it again, you look great in that sweater. Though…on you its big enough to look like you’re wearing a dress.” “If this is your best attempt to get me to stop working…you suck at it.”)

 

But still, it was free of holes, if not stains of all manners. Indian food, ink, chemicals, milk, white sauce…the _other_ white sauce. It had long passed a state where it could safely be worn in public. But that did not make the piece of clothing any less beloved.

 

If anything, it was the most beloved piece of clothing owned by the couple. Worn long after the rich burgundy color had grown faded and dull and small holes were worn on the elbows. The collar had been frayed well beyond repair and the poor thing was eventually a wash away from just falling to pieces.

 

(“We can get a new one Kon.” “I know that…it’s just…You were wearing this when I proposed to you.” “…you wore it on your first day to work.” “There’s just… _so many_ memories…” “I know Kon. I know….”)

 

At the end of its life, the sweater was wrapped up carefully and placed with other items which the couple held dear. It had led a life fuller than most of its mass produced brothers and sisters. It had been loved, cherished and most importantly, treasured.

 

It was one of a kind and completely irreplaceable.

 

It was a particularly special sweater.

 

This was the story of that red sweater.


End file.
